


Shadowsong

by InFamousHero



Series: Service & Sacrifice [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Murder Mystery, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InFamousHero/pseuds/InFamousHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xaxas has shattered the world and thrown it into chaos. With enemies pressing in on all borders, the last thing Darnassus needs are enemies coming from within. When the bodies of murdered highborn begin to turn up, Maiev Shadowsong pledges to find the culprits and bring them to justice. But is it ever so simple?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Renewal

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially how I would’ve done the highborn plot of Wolfheart. No claims of it being better, simply how I would have done it myself.
> 
> In case it wasn’t obvious: THIS FOLLOWS FROM THE PLOT OF “OLD, UNHAPPY, FAR-OFF THINGS.”
> 
> Read that first.

Neva lunged, grinning as she engaged her opponent. Trading blows was quick and precise, but neither of them landed hits, only met each other in the middle. Trainee Ellisare was doing well, staying quick on her feet, but Neva began to frown in frustration. Pushing harder, she sent the trainee stumbling, forcing her off balance and pursuing.

“Enough.”

Neva ignored the command and continued, backing her younger opponent to the edge of the ring. Ellisare was putting up a desperate defence but lack of space to move and lost momentum left her in a terrible position.

Maiev was between them in a swirl of shadow, disarming Neva in a swift, twisting motion and pushing her several steps back. The young trainee stumbled but found her footing quickly, grateful for a moment to breathe. “I said enough!” Maiev barked, staring Neva down. The young woman quickly cowed under her stare and bowed her head.

“Forgive me, Mistress Shadowsong,” she said, looking up. “I thought it better to give her an idea of the enemy. They wouldn’t show mercy.”

Maiev sighed and looked back at Ellisare, nodding to dismiss her. Ellisare nodded back thankfully and made a quick bow before she walked off, rubbing her side.

Returning her attention to Neva, Maiev frowned. “Remember who you fight in this ring, this is training, they are your sisters, not targets to batter as you see fit,” she said firmly. “If they need a lesson in ruthlessness _I_ will decide when and where to apply it, is that understood?”

A guilty look crossed Neva’s face and she looked down. “Yes, Mistress Shadowsong, my apologies.”

“Report to Warden Felsong.”

“As you command.”

Maiev watched Neva leave, wondering how much the isolation and time had worked in her favour when training the last Watchers. Neva was young and sometimes over-zealous, but she didn’t doubt she could wear down any flaws until only discipline and skill remained. When she did _that_ , Neva would make an excellent Warden. For now, it was just a matter of time and keeping an eye on her.

Leaving the training ring behind, Maiev exited the chamber and walked through the barrow. Roots and carefully carved masonry formed the hallways, lit by moonstone lanterns and druidic magic. It took some degree of self-control to not let her mind slip back, tugged by chains and cloying memories worked into her very bones by sheer length of habit. Of course she thought of the old prison, it was impossible not to. But she had enough wherewithal to avoid being trapped in those memories now.

It had been an interesting few years, adjusting to the new barrow and an influx of women to train. Neva was amongst the first, enamoured like a handful of others with the stories surrounding the old Watchers and Maiev’s relentless hunt for Illidan.

When the new barrow was complete, Maiev reached out to contact former Watchers, whoever she knew to be alive, just in case they would consider coming back to train a new generation. They all responded, most had left due to mental stresses or physical injury making work unreasonable, but only a handful were willing to come back. Maiev held no ill will towards those who stayed away, telling them as much. She would not force the matter, it wasn’t that long ago that she didn’t consider _herself_ fit to return.

After the old Watchers were contacted, Maiev finally reached out to the Vault to be met with relief and positivity. The Vault Watchers there had feared the worst after Maiev ‘vanished’ from Outland. Cordana immediately left the Vault in the capable hands of Sira Moonwarden and came to Darnassus to help train the new generation.

Some were civilians, most were former sentinels and mercenaries looking to do something else with their lives. They’d already seen to hunting down and dealing with a handful of severe cases, putting them through something of a trial by fire. But Maiev picked them well and the targets were taken care of aptly.

She was hopeful, but now a real test was coming…

Maiev came to a stop at the entrance of the barrow, staring into the dense forest as moonlight filtered down from above. Shadows were ever present here—a thicket riddled with twists and turns, confusing those unfamiliar with it. She worked closely with the druids who helped construct the place, making subtle alterations so shadows appeared denser and foliage bewilderingly clustered. Unless someone knew where they were going, it would be hard to find their way through.

The glowing green figure of an owl darted through the canopy and Maiev lifted her arm, allowing Dori’thur to swoop down and alight on it. She took the note it offered and let it fly back to Darnassus, to Tyrande.

Opening the note revealed about what Maiev expected. The Alliance leaders, ambassadors, and accompanying guards were beginning to arrive. More tension for a city already bathed in uneasiness. At least she had enough Watchers now that trying to keep the peace wasn’t an unreasonable request.

The violent return of Xaxas had shaken the world enough, now the _highborne_ had slithered out of whatever crevice they’d stuffed themselves, and their city played host to wolf men. The responsibility of _druids_ , it was their folly that brought the creatures about. But the situation was what it was, and she needed to handle it with as much respect as she could muster. She would not fan the flames out of spite.

Cordana’s main task was to keep an eye on the Highborne and notify Malfurion when they stepped out of bounds. So far, the mages either hadn’t noticed them or their pride wouldn’t allow them to admit they were being successfully tailed. Maiev was willing to believe it was the former. If the Highborne felt boxed in they would make a fuss about it. It was why she put Cordana in charge rather than one of the newer Watchers.

No one had yet reached the requirements to start training as a Warden, though it wasn’t for lack of trying…

A familiar figure rounded the outer wall of trees, sat atop a sleek and powerful nightsaber that prowled the thicket with ease. Naisha was as fierce and elegant a sight as ever, her huntress armour redesigned to clearly mark her as second-in-command of the Watchers.

“There you are,” Naisha said, slipping out of the saddle once she was close enough. She lifted her owl-like mask to reveal a smile. “Cordana has everything in hand for the moment. They’re just keeping an eye on our guests.”

“Has there been any trouble?”

“Nothing the Sentinels couldn’t deal with, just some egos flaring. There’s a lot of distrust right now.”

“And the Highborne?”

“Behaving.”

Maiev nodded and folded the note away. “Malfurion must have cowed them enough,” she murmured, staring in the direction of the city. “But they _are_ chafing under our rules, be sure to have our sisters stay at a distance.”

Naisha nodded in return, “always.” She fell quiet until Maiev looked at her, tone softening, “ready for this?”

Part of her squirmed with unbridled bitterness and pride, she could not help it. But the will and desire to do her duty and protect her people was stronger than it had ever been. She took a breath as if to further order herself and sighed, “yes.”

Naisha smiled and stepped into her space, hugging her. “And you?” Maiev asked quietly, wrapping an arm around Naisha’s shoulders. Naisha kept her voice low as she responded, “there was a hiccup on the way here, but nothing I couldn’t handle, I promise.”

“What caused it?”

“One of those worgen ran across the path and I had to turn suddenly to avoid them, sent a jolt through my leg.”

Maiev tightened her arm in a brief squeeze and Naisha pulled away, smiling wryly at her. “I’m fine, just had to take a few seconds to breathe,” she looked over Maiev’s shoulder at the barrow entrance. “I’ll brief everyone still here. I’m sure Tyrande will appreciate knowing everything is in order.”

 

* * *

 

 

There were still hours to go before the banquet was held, before the political tension was smoothed over with wine, practiced smiles and honeyed words. Maiev had little doubt there was an air of sincerity to it for Tyrande, but thinking of the younger species like bickering children was a hard thing to shake.

She met with Tyrande at the temple, walking its deeper halls devoid of prying ears or eyes.

“All is as it should be, for the moment.”

“Thank you, Maiev,” Tyrande said, smiling tiredly. She eyed Maiev’s armour for a moment and canted her head, asking, “I trust training has been going well?”

“My Watchers are ready, High Priestess. Initiates are being kept to low risk duties for the duration of this summit, but they are getting their first taste of our life.”

“I imagine they must be proud.”

“They know their duty and have purpose.”

A slight strain entered Tyrande’s expression and she gestured for them to begin walking back to the front of the temple. “I am grateful to have your aid in this tumultuous time,” she said calmly, each word carrying more weight than anyone watching could have picked up on.

Tyrande visited the Watcher’s Thicket a number of times, but each time was brief, if courteous. Something in her eyes shifted when she saw the new watchers training, saw Maiev and Cordana in their warden armour. Maiev knew very well the expressions of guilt and it seemed the weight of her actions years ago was catching up to Tyrande in full. A lot of innocent blood was spilled to release a mass murderer, leading to even more loss of life as the city of Nendis was razed to the ground and its people slaughtered. It was exactly the sort of thing Maiev and her people were there to prevent, it was _why_ they kept their vigil, kept to their duties, because they knew exactly what would happen if any of their charges were to escape.

It still gave her chills to think about the others. Illidan was a monster, there was no question about that, but the other charges were not fuelled by a twisted love of power. All were foul for different reasons, driven by an innate or learned desire to hurt others. Maiev did well not to forget the details, intimately knowing the details of their crimes emboldened her to keep them locked away for eternity, rotting in their cells where they belonged.

How many people did they hurt when they escaped? How many of those victims were chalked up to demons or undead?

Maiev shook her head, paying attention to her surroundings again. “It will be made right again, Tyrande, in time. But we will need more of it.”

“I understand.”

“I am not certain you do.”

“Then help me to understand.”

She stopped walking and Tyrande paused as well, looking at her directly. Moonlight fell across them both through the entrance to the temple, forcing Maiev to cast a severe looking shadow. It almost swallowed the High Priestess.

Maiev sighed deeply and kept her voice even. “It is not just the lives of my sisters. In your zeal to release Illidan and surmount my forces, you resorted to releasing other prisoners.” She waited a moment, watching Tyrande’s expression shift into an apprehensive frown, before she asked, “what sort of prisoners do you think were kept in the same place as someone like him? What do you think they did once you granted them freedom and they butchered their way through my sisters?”

Tyrande refused to look away, responding with controlled neutrality. “They escaped.”

“To do what they do best, cause harm. I will spare you the crimes that saw them throw to me. _They_ are the reason nearly two dozen of my sisters formally retired, because their depravity and foul nature was too much to bear.”

“I will not spell out my intentions as if they mean anything, Maiev.”

“But you feel it relevant.”

“In part, yes, but many suffered because of what I did that night. Whatever I intended, that is not what happened and I cannot pretend all those I released were conveniently killed by the Legion.”

Maiev managed a strained smile, “then you understand more than I thought.”

Tyrande nodded lightly in thanks, looking smaller somehow, perhaps drained. “I wish only to mend,” she said. “But I should not keep you from your duties any longer and I will be needed soon. Elune guide you, Maiev.”

Maiev watched her walk away for a moment, frowning in thought. There was a part of her still angry at Tyrande, she doubted it would ever go away, but at least it had dulled. There were reparations, promises backed up by action, and it was a sincere effort. There would not be forgiveness, but perhaps there could be peace.

She turned away and left the temple. The moon hung full in the sky and Maiev paused to stare up at Her. It was a challenge to embrace her training and work through her anger, but it was something she needed to do, as much for her own sake as it was for others. She could still help if she could just work through her anger and embrace their Mother Moon again.

Naisha turned down the offer to train as a Warden because of it. She still adhered to Elune, but forgiving their goddess was something she couldn’t bring herself to do, and Maiev did not blame her for it.

It was an intimately difficult path to walk.

Maiev exhaled slowly and opened her eyes on the path ahead. Instantly she was transfixed at the sight before her as if time halted. Ascending the last steps to the temple, a tall, cloaked figure carried a woman in his arms. The woman was wrapped in a shawl, clearly unconscious, and he was watching her with great concern etched across his features. White hair fell behind him, long and held in a tail, and a short beard framed his weathered face.

“Jarod,” she blurted out his name, brusque, disbelieving.

Their eyes met and Maiev frowned in the confines of her helmet, trying to understand what she was looking at. Her brother was dead. He vanished into the wilderness without warning and was never heard from again. She looked for him _herself_ and the only thing she found was a bloodied remnant of his clothing in the glade of a particularly vicious bear, and yet…

Yet he stood before her now, cradling an unfamiliar woman as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him.

Jarod stared at her for several long moments, the silence smothering like the depths of a lake, before recognition flashed across his face.

“Maiev?”

 


	2. Old World Sins

 His wife, he had a _wife._

Nearly ten-thousand years and her brother, who had not spoken a single word to her in all that time, had a wife. He wasn’t dead, not torn apart by some beast, but alive and married to a woman Maiev could scarcely place.

Did they have children? Was there a family she didn’t know about, _hadn’t_ known about all this time? Did she matter so little to him so as to not be told? Her mind buzzed with uncertainty and ramping emotions as she watched Jarod fuss over Shalasyr.

A terrible illness fought to take over her body, but Jarod had brought her just in time. With enough care and attention, she would recover.

Maiev wasn’t sure how to react, so she walked away and left Jarod to his _wife._ The word still felt foreign in her mind.

He seemed awkward and self-conscious talking to her, however briefly. Perhaps her confusion and anger was clear even with her armour on, Maiev felt little motivation to neutralize her tone or soften her words. Before the Great War, all she had ever done was try to get through to him, try to help him go further and reach his potential. But he resisted, even after he was proven to be an exceptional military leader when their people needed him most. So she relented, she let him be and followed her own path in the wake of their newly fractured world. Yet, that was when he truly protested.

She would be abandoning him, _she_ would be running away. It didn’t escape Maiev that he only seemed to truly care when she finally stepped back from him. It didn’t matter how long she had tried to stay by him and push him forward, how many times she overlooked her own well-being for his sake, or how often she wrote to him after her appointment as Warden. One night, he simply stopped responding. No hint of anything wrong, no clues as to what happened, nothing. He hadn’t mentioned Shalasyr at all, not once, and that above anything else made Maiev wonder how long Jarod planned his disappearance.

Perhaps she had not been a good enough sister, perhaps she pushed too hard, but did that justify running away? He led her to believe he was dead, eaten by some ferocious beast, her only remaining family after the Great War took their home and mother from them.

She never told him what happened, that she _found_ their mother in Suramar’s ruined outskirts, warped by the dreadlords and their unnatural fog. Their mother was dead, that was all Jarod had needed to understand. He didn’t need knowledge that would only hurt him.

She wondered if her clipped manner after the fact helped him make his decision.

Maiev stopped just outside the city, chest growing tight as she clenched her jaw. She’d thought he was dead, that she was alone, that all of her family was gone. Instead, Jarod had simply run off to start his own without breathing a single word of it to her. Clearly, he didn’t _want_ her to be a part of it.

Like a knife through the ribs, the weight of Jarod’s silence lodged in her chest and Maiev screwed her eyes shut. The agony of her losses was one she could scarcely describe, but there was something deeply visceral about this particular wound…

 

* * *

 

 

Naisha was an undeniably welcome sight as Maiev rounded the last tree to their home, and the weight of her mantle seemed to lessen on her approach. Sat at the fireplace with a joint of boar meat roasting away, Naisha was out of her armour and carefully prodding the fire. She wore a troubled look and Maiev frowned, quickening her pace until Naisha lifted her eyes and smiled tiredly.

“There you are,” she said, getting to her feet. She swayed slightly but righted herself. Sometimes she was still thrown off by the odd feeling of her wooden leg. The druids had done their best to make it comfortable and Naisha had fast adapted to it, but occasionally the sensation of it would distract her.

Maiev slipped off her helmet, about to speak, but a word could scarcely leave her lips before Naisha closed what little distance remained between them. Naisha kissed her cheek and took her helmet from her, remarking in an even tone, “I heard about jarod.” She turned away, walking to their house, and Maiev simply followed with a quiet sigh.

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she remained silent, deep in thought as she changed out of her armour with Naisha’s help. It was a new set, the old arranged on a stand in her formal ‘office’ at the prison, with all its marks and weathering on display. Her old crescent hung on the wall above it. Both served as a reminder to herself and anyone who saw it, of what came before. The new armour was similar enough in design, but the materials used were stronger and lighter, affording her greater agility in combat with just as much protection. Her new crescent was much the same in design and she propped it near the  door as they left for the fireplace.

The act of shedding her armour unwound some of the tension across her shoulders, aided by careful touches and the focus with which Naisha helped her. It was a silent signal, telling her it was safe to let her guard down, but neither of them ever fully relaxed until they slept. Some part of them always paid attention, always stayed alert—it was innate to them and their related scars. But they could relax _enough_.

“He has a wife,” Maiev finally said, sitting at the fire. “A wife he has been with all this time.”

The words struck Naisha by surprise and she paused mid-way through grabbing a knife for the boar, brows raised. “This… entire time?” she asked slowly, picking up a bowl so she could collect pieces of cooked meat. Silence hung around them as Naisha filled the bowl, shaving off strips and chunks with a steadily deepening frown. “I should bloody his nose,” she growled quietly, turning to hand the bowl to Maiev. “All this time?” she asked again, sounding far more annoyed now. Maiev took the bowl with a nod, speaking plainly, “he did not want a life amongst our people, not in the aftermath and tensions that followed. He could not stomach it.” She looked down at the bowl in her hands, frowning. “Perhaps I reminded him of it all.”

Naisha reached out, gently grasping her by the chin so she’d look up. “Don’t,” she said firmly, eyes hard. “Don’t let him off so easily. He was your brother, but that doesn’t negate what he did to you.” Naisha let her words hang until Maiev nodded, sighing quietly, “I know.”

Her expression softened and Naisha bent to kiss Maiev’s brow. “I remember how you were when you returned, after you found what ‘remained’ of him,” she murmured. “I won’t see him absolved for it just for being your brother when he clearly didn’t care about that bond in the first place.”

Maiev set her bowl aside and wrapped her arms around Naisha’s waist, pulling them close and burying her face in Naisha’s stomach. Naisha wrapped an arm around her head, careful with the knife and half-filled bowl she was holding. They were quiet for a few moments and Maiev tried to order her thoughts into something useful.

Yes, he was her brother. But Jarod had shown how much that connection mattered to him. Why give him anything less than the treatment she would give others for hurting her like that? Maiev fiercely wanted to shut off her doubts and sympathies and leave Jarod to his life, but part of her still wanted him around, she _missed_ him. But was it really him she missed, or what she remembered of him?

Maiev sighed deeply and pulled away, going for her food. Naisha went back to collecting her own share, speaking evenly, “in a way, I think that made it easier for you to focus on the Den.”

She lifted her head, mulling the words over for a few seconds before nodding. “Perhaps, but only after I accepted it—there was nothing and no one else left after him. All I had were…” her voice caught and Maiev swallowed hard around a swell of emotion. Only a few years after the fact it hurt immensely, Jarod’s loss continued to sting her even thousands of years later if she thought about it. Three-hundred and twenty-three women, dedicated, righteous, passionate, and above all else, _loyal_ to one another—none of them deserved their fate but all of them faced it with an iron-clad sense of duty and perseverance.

Clearing her throat, Maiev began to eat her food and moved on from the subject. “Is there anything to report regarding the mages?”

“One of them raised a fuss with the Archdruid, he seems to think one of his kin has gone missing. We haven’t found anything yet. There was some trouble earlier but the Archdruid ferreted them out after we informed him. They’re chafing under the ‘no magic’ rule.”

“Has anyone moved to antagonize them?”

“A few, but they’ve been unsuccessful so far. The Sentinels still distrust us but at least they’re working with us.”

A small weight lodged in her chest and Maiev sighed. Ever since the Den and the river incident, there remained an uncomfortable undercurrent amongst the Sentinels, particularly from Shandris and those who worked closely with Tyrande herself. They whispered to each other about the Watchers and Maiev, questioning their loyalty, if they might ‘turn’ on the High Priestess again. Each time such words reached her Maiev felt increasingly incensed, yet she held her tongue and refused to act on them personally. The only action she _did_ take was to bring the whispered doubts and accusations to Tyrande. The High Priestess, for her part, continually tried to ease those tensions to varying effect.

Naisha and Shandris had butted heads already over the city’s security, finally settling on what to do when Naisha assured the locations of their sisters would be known to Shandris. _‘You needn’t fear a blade in your back, General. We only strike our allies to defend ourselves.’_ Naisha’s words all but started a fight in the barracks.

There were multiple reasons why Naisha was her second-in-command, but Maiev would not make the mistake of sending Naisha to talk with Shandris again. There was too much pain associated with the Sentinels and the High Priestess for her. Naisha was the one in charge when the Den was raided, watching their sisters be cut down and the prison fall into chaos, while Maiev was investigating the threats faced outside.

Maiev set her empty bowl aside and took a breath, sighing quietly. “We know our duty, as do they,” she murmured.

Naisha nodded, focusing more on the fireplace. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

“Mistress Shadowsong!”

Maiev lifted her head at the urgent tone, setting the reports on her desk as Ellisare hurried in. The young woman quickly saluted, her face alarmed but holding together. “I found a body just outside the thicket,” she said, quickly but clearly. “It’s one of the highborn.”

“Where?” Maiev rose immediately, grabbing her helmet and making to leave. Ellisare followed swiftly, keeping up with her long strides. “Not far, I found it a few minutes ago. I ran to you right away and told Warden Felsong as I went. She should be there by now.”

They broke into a run as they left the prison and Ellisare led her to the edge of the Thicket, just outside the twists and turns that would leave outsiders confused.

Cordana cut a familiar and severe figure, crouched over the body as she inspected it. Maiev approached, stepping around the prone form as she eyed his bloody throat.

“This was with him,” Cordana said, rising and holding out a bloodied note. Maiev took it and nodded to her, “anything else?”

Cordana shook her head, “no abnormalities, this was quite mundane. I’ll see if I can pick up a trail, he didn’t die here.”

Maiev nodded and knelt by the body as Cordana left. He was definitely one of the highborn, his robes and countenance gave that away immediately. The vaguest smell of the arcane hung near him, but it was largely overpowered by the blood and surrounding forest. His throat was sliced open, likely by a small, curved blade by the shape of the wounds. There were no other injuries on him, no defensive wounds, no bruising that she could see without moving him.

Maiev rose and opened the note;

 

_Suffer not traitors_

 

She frowned deeply and stared at the body, mind ticking away with implications. This is exceptionally deliberate, but who was behind it and why? Doing this could bring fatal unrest to the summit and put their people in jeopardy. But she knew all too well what hatred and fury could do to someone’s psyche. Whoever was behind this may not be thinking clearly, there were many reasons to hate the highborn, many reasons to fear the power they wielded.

Maiev sighed and looked to Ellisare, who straightened immediately. “Run to the temple, inform Tyrande and Malfurion. Bring them here.”

Ellisare saluted and ran with a quick ‘ _as you command!’_ and Maiev remained still until she could no longer hear the young woman’s steps. The sound of the forest enveloped her briefly and she closed her eyes, jaw clenching.

Goddess, this was the last thing they needed right now…

Maiev shook off her worries and opened her eyes, moving around the area to see if there was anything she could discern. There wasn’t much to go and most would find that discouraging, but it pointed out to her that whoever had done this was no amateur. The wounds were precise and the mage seemed to have been taken by surprise. Large numbers of people could have trampled the local flora. Either they were careful or they were very few. She was strong enough to move a man his size and apparent weight with ease, and without being seen. But why leave him outside the Thicket?

An uneasy chill settled in her stomach.

It would be several more minutes until she began to hear movement in the forest. A pair of Sentinels emerged first, then Ellisare, followed by Tyrande and Malfurion. He fixated on the body first, frowning. Tyrande looked at it momentarily and focused on Maiev.

“What have you found?”

Maiev squared her shoulders, speaking in a clear, neutral voice. “Presumably, the shen’dralar’s missing kin—”

“Thera’brin,” Malfurion interjected, half-distracted as he approached the body and knelt by it. “His name was Thera’brin.”

Maiev refused to give him her attention and continued talking to Tyrande. “We have little to go on at this time, but whoever is behind this seems to know what they are doing. Three precise cuts to the throat to debilitate and kill, and no clear signs of struggle that I can see in his current state. We would need to examine the body further for anything else.”

Tyrande frowned and turned away, looking at their surroundings. “There were no signs of the culprit, their movements?”

“None, Warden Felsong is attempting to find a trail, but she only left recently.”

“Anything else?”

“A note on his person, reading ‘suffer not traitors.’”

Tyrande looked at her again and Malfurion rose, his brow still deeply furrowed. “Traitors,” Malfurion repeated, sighing. “Perhaps the culprit is one of ours then, someone who remembers and cannot see beyond the highborn’s past mistakes.”

Maiev only slightly turned her head towards him, her tone icy and even. “Some crimes are difficult to forget, particularly when they put so much at risk.”

His eyes narrowed at her and he huffed, turning away to commune with their surroundings. There were angles, mannerisms, certain things Malfurion possessed that reminded her of _him_ so easily. An impulse shot through her to cleave into his back but Maiev crushed it as soon as it arose. She was in control, she was _not_ at the behest of her fury, no matter how much Malfurion may have deserved it.

He still hadn’t forgiven her for her actions years ago, all but directly protesting the idea of reinstating her position as Warden and rebuilding the Watchers. But Tyrande brushed him aside, pointing out their uses and Maiev’s otherwise spotless record. If Tyrande herself could look beyond Maiev’s actions, he had no excuses.

Maiev could see him chafing under that sentiment every time they had to interact and the feeling was mutual. Few she met had ever displayed such a callous disregard for justice as he.  But she couldn’t get wrapped up in that, not now, not when she needed to focus.

She cleared her head and faced Tyrande directly. “Someone is trying to send a message, one that I do not care for,” she said firmly. “I will not stand idle while our people teeter on a knife’s edge. You have my word, High Priestess, this _will_ be dealt with.”

 


	3. Creeping Shadows

 

“For the last time, she’s devoting every waking moment to investigating this. You won’t help or speed the process along by badgering her.” Naisha contained her venom, giving Var’dyn nothing but an immovable, professional front. She avoided deference however, he hadn’t earned it, and she could see it irked the highborn. They really hadn’t changed that much.

“I’m bringing this to the Archdruid, you cannot _keep_ the body!” Var’dyn hissed and turned on his heel.

Naisha exhaled slowly and sneered at his back. Barely a night into this mess and they were already breathing down Maiev’s neck about it.

“Entitled lot, aren’t they?”

She turned at Neva’s voice, watching her step out from the threshold of the Thicket. How long Neva was lurking and how much she heard immediately leapt to Naisha’s mind, but she held those questions back. “That they are, but we do what’s necessary to keep the peace, even if it’s weathering a highborn’s attitude,” she said, ending with a sigh, “we can’t even blame them for it now, they’ve lost one of their people.”

Neva curled her lip in vague disdain. “How terrible for them.”

Naisha frowned, giving her a stern look, and Neva looked away. “Don’t let them catch you talking like that,” Naisha said firmly. “They’re already well aware how most here feel about them and we need to avoid inflaming the matter.”

Neva nodded curtly, deference evening out her voice as she asked, “is there anything you’d have me do?”

“Lieutenant Amberlance!”

Naisha turned to see Ellisare running down the trail towards them, scroll clutched tightly in hand. The trainee halted sharply an arm’s reach away and hastily saluted, holding out the scroll. Naisha lifted her hand and took the scroll, giving Ellisare a sympathetic smile, “take a moment to breathe, girl.” Clearly thankful, Ellisare leaned on her knees for a moment as she caught her breath.

Opening the scroll revealed a few things of import, namely that Stormwind’s presence was worsening the political atmosphere and making things difficult. _Typical_ , Naisha almost sneered aloud.  She sighed to herself and tucked the scroll away in her small satchel.

Warden Felsong had to adjust her methods. Ever since the body was found, the highborn had become more on edge and alert. As tenuous as the summit was, the highborn were in near complete disarray. They _needed_ to be accepted again or they weren’t going to survive. The kaldorei could likely survive without them, but accepting their knowledge and abilities would lessen the lives lost in the process. At least for the time being, there was no telling what the future would bring.

Then there was the matter of the _worgen_. Cordana had her concerns about the gilneans, but the meat of her report focused on the fact that one of them was sniffing around the highborn compound.

Naisha frowned and rubbed her brow. “Neva, report to Warden Felsong, tell her our wings are spreading.” Neva saluted without a word and quickly set off.

She looked at Ellisare and the trainee straightened up, expectant.  Naisha gave her another smile. “Nothing for you just yet, go get some food from Arllen,” she said, gesturing back to the Thicket. “He’s made clam chowder and flatbread.”

 

* * *

 

There were a few things she did not need right at this moment. The highborn pestering _Malfurion_ of all people for the body before she was done with it was one, circumventing her authority on the matter to appeal to the Archdruid’s naive sense of compassion. Another was having to hear about the King of Stormwind making a mess of things at the banquet. Yet she could tolerate both of these things.

What Maiev could _not_ tolerate was Jarod’s insistence on reaching out to her, now of all times. He remained in the  temple and sent a letter, trying to explain himself, why he did what he did, but never getting anywhere close to an apology.

_‘Living up to your standard was difficult, I just didn’t want to disappoint you by telling you I wanted nothing to do with our people anymore.’_

She nearly tossed the letter on a brazier at that. The better choice was to let her think she’d lost her entire family? So he could go off and start his own? She _let him be_ after the war, but what if it was too late by then and he had already made up his mind? She wanted to scream.

Maiev paused in the middle of the forest, shaking her head. She could feel it beginning to throb with a headache and put it down to stress and frustration. Already she’d had to speak with and placate the highborn this evening, and that was enough to leave her grinding her teeth. Archmage Mordent may be a reasonable figure amongst his kin, all things considered, but the rest were far less so.

She continued moving, clouds and fog slipping through Teldrassil’s crown in the early hours of the morning. Sunlight barely broke through, leaving the forest shrouded and dim, with the faintest hint of birdsong.

Movement caught her attention ahead, a dark, lupine shape prowling into sight and moving in the same direction she was. She frowned and drew closer in silence, seeing the figure was one of the worgen. He was very close to the Thicket.

“Halt!” Maiev called in a commanding voice, close enough to pursue with ease should the wolf-man bolt. His ears pricked, he glanced over his shoulder at her, and sure enough he tried to run. Maiev gave chase, easily traversing the forest with a familiarity he did not possess.

The worgen darted back and forth, unsuccessfully trying to feint, until Maiev intercepted one of his turns and forced him to jump out of her way. He crashed right into a tree instead.

Maiev stared down at the wolf-man as he whined and rubbed his head, ears pinned back. She spoke in the same tone as before, “what is your name and what you are doing so close to my grounds?”

He peered up at her, eyes narrowed, but said nothing. Maiev frowned deeply. “I am in the middle of an investigation and _you_ are dangerously close to where our murder victim was found.”

“Wasn’t doing anything,” he grunted, averting his eyes.

Maiev sighed quietly, brushing off her rising annoyance. She was just tired. “I’m in no mood for games and I don’t care for politics, all I care for is the threat posed to my people and how to end it,” she said in a slightly more personable tone.

The wolf-man looked up at her again, frowning in thought. He lifted his ears and his muzzle pulled back in a reluctant look. “My name’s Eadrik, I’m… I’m here at the behest of my king.”

Maiev narrowed her eyes. “Why did your king send you here?”

“He’s heard tales of your highborn lot, wanted to know more, make sure they weren’t doing anything fishy.”

“And?”

“They’re a weird lot, but you’ve got ‘em locked down tight. I could barely get near them without being spotted by your people.”

“Have you encountered anyone or anything suspicious outside their compound?”

Eadrik slowly got to his feet, rising to a height that just about cleared her own. “There’s been a few odd sorts lurking near our camp, they smelled like oil and something else, like chlorine or bleach, the kind of smell that sticks to your nose.”

She frowned deeply, squaring her shoulders. “Arcane magic.”

Eadrik cocked his head. “Suppose so,” he said, ears flicking. “Haven’t had much chance to encounter it like this yet. Everything’s still… well, takes getting used to. Is there anything else?”

“Did you see any of these people?”

“Never got close enough, just knew they didn’t smell like us. They left traps but I don’t think they were for us, didn’t leave them near the hunting grounds.”

“Where?”

Eadrik moved quickly, leading her away from the Watcher’s Thicket and towards a small clearing on the north eastern outskirts of Darnassus. It was where the highborn performed what little magic they were allowed to.

Upon reaching the clearing, Eadrik bent a few yards off the worn path and outlined what Maiev could already see. There was a circular pattern burned into the ground, just subtle enough to be lost amongst the patchwork of moss and root systems for less observant individuals, but definitely there.

She knelt to take a closer look, briefly tracing one of the outer lines. The air had a subtle tang to it, spent magic clinging to the area—this trap was already sprung.

Frowning, Maiev glanced across the ground to see faint depressions in the dirt, light gouges and the half-moon prints of someone’s heel digging in. She rose and followed the marks, crossing the path’s width and passing through the bushes on the other side. One of the surrounding trees tilted in its growth, shadowing a tiny clearing encircled by hardy shrubs. Maiev traced the marks until she heard buzzing and turned her head slightly, eyeing the roots of the arched tree. The living coils were stained with a dash of deep indigo blood, enough to attract a small collection of flies. Drops dotted the ground as well, leaving a clear pattern of someone being overpowered and executed.

A hungry or aggressive beast would leave more of a mess, scraps of clothing, remains, claw marks in the ground. This was calculated, careful, and coupled with the trap outside Maiev could only assume she was standing where Thera’brin died.

The bushes shifted behind her and she looked back to see Eadrik poking his head through. She turned towards him and squared her shoulders. “If you find any more traps like those, report them to the Watcher’s immediately. We will not mention you directly.”

He stared at her for a long moment, equal parts reluctance and suspicion, but eventually bowed his head in a quick nod. Wordlessly, he pulled back and left, loping into the forest and leaving her alone again.

 

* * *

 

“You’re still awake, good.”

Maiev looked up from her desk to see Cordana entering her office. She straightened and set her notes down, frowning.

“You have something to report?” she asked, crossing her arms on the desk.

Cordana slipped her helmet off and gave a neat salute. The look on her face was one of restrained annoyance. “Malfurion relented to their demands. They’ll be taking the body come dusk.”

Curse that soft-hearted, out of touch—Maiev stopped her thoughts before she could sink into an angry stupor. Sighing deeply, she rubbed at her brow and left her desk. “Then we have little time,” she said, making for the door. Cordana followed, helm tucked under her arm. They turned down a long corridor that split off to multiple rooms and stairwells, and stopped on a circular platform at the very end. A moonstone disc was embedded in the middle and it lit up at a wave of Maiev’s palm, a brief glow of silver energy activating it.

The platform descended and took them down two levels to a cold, stone chamber lit by moonstone lamps hanging from the ceiling. The light tapping of hooves on bricks met them before the sight of Lorana did.

“Mistress Shadowsong, Warden,” Lorana greeted them with a short bow. “Sirelle and I have learned much from the body, I was about to come and speak with you about it.” She canted her head, brow raised as she asked, “is something wrong?”

Maiev bowed her head to the dryad. “Malfurion has cut our time short and granted the highborn leave to take the body,” she said, walking towards Sirelle and the slab upon which Thera’brin lay. The stone was held aloft by a study coil of roots of which Lorana adjusted as necessary.

His clothes were folded neatly on a nearby table, leaving him bare and the burns on his skin easily seen. They coiled down his legs and arms, thinner on the limbs and growing thicker as they stretched towards his abdomen and chest. Over his heart they turned into a messy blotch of seared skin and burst blood vessels, discolouration turning his skin near black.

“Aside from magical suppression, we recently discovered a far more serious detail,” said Sirelle, gesturing to his chest. “It appears at the point where his throat was slashed, his heart exploded.”

Maiev looked at her then, frowning deeply. “Exploded?”

The priestess nodded, her own expression grim as she continued, “it appears however did this is using a far more deadly variant of our traps. They don’t mean to subdue and capture, but execute gruesomely.” She pointed to the gashes in his throat, carefully lifting his chin as she did so. “We also found an oily residue around these.”

Lorana intersected, moving to a smaller table where they had set aside samples. “We collected what we could,” she said, picking up a small vial and bringing it to Maiev. “From what I could tell, there’s a ground crystal in the oil that acted like some kind of catalyst for the trap.”

Taking the vial, Maiev held it up so that nearby lamplight passed through the violet tinted oil inside. Sand like particles floated in the scant amount of fluid, all but glimmering as light hit them. “I have seen this before,” she said, sighing as she handed the vial back to Lorana. “A group formed after the Great War, mage hunters who called themselves the Blades of Elune. They used methods much like this.”

Cordana’s head tilted, eyeing her. “I thought you disbanded them.”

Maiev sighed, curling her lip in distaste. “I did, I spent years venturing out and hunting them down. After Sunstrider’s exodus and the last of the exiles left, there was nowhere for their group to go but south to Feralas. We dismantled their leadership and killed any who refused to go quietly.”

It was a bitter moment of her early history, but an enlightening one as to Malfurion’s nature. Show mercy initially so that he might be seen, and himself feel, like the even-handed figure of compassion. Then, when problems arise after his mercy has been given, set someone else on those problems.

The Blades were a threat to peace in the aftermath of not only the Great War but the Satyr War, as a tenuous treaty between Eldre’thalas and the rest of Kalimdor grew weak. They could not afford that unrest, so the group was put down and the mages of Eldre’thalas withdrew their threats.

Maiev glanced between Lorana and Sirelle. “Was there anything else?”

Lorana shook her head. “Beyond confirming his location before and after he was killed, nothing of note—his killer was very careful not to leave any identifying evidence.” She glanced back at his body, particularly the burns. “At least, personal evidence, we know now _what_ they are, but not who.”

Maiev nodded curtly. “If there is anything else you can discern, try, but have the body prepared for retrieval by dusk.”

The pair bowed briefly and Maiev turned away, followed by Cordana once more. They stepped onto the platform and Maiev sighed, rubbing at her brow as they ascended.

Codana looked at her, frowning lightly. “This is definitely the work of a kaldorei, no one else hates them enough to employ such methods.”

“Indeed, but this means they have either recovered or a former Blade has lost their patience.”

“I would say it’s a small number, if not an individual. From what I heard, they didn’t like to do things by half. We would’ve found more bodies by now if they have truly recovered.”

“True enough.”

They reached the top level of the Den and walked down the hall in silence, only for Codana to pause. “Maiev.”

She stopped and turned back to face Cordana, raising a brow in question. Cordana’s lips thinned in a brief look of reluctance before she sighed. “I know you plan to return to the Vault  once this is all dealt with, but there is something I feel you need to know.”

“Out with it.”

“When we recovered Illidan’s body, we encountered the main bulk his demon hunters exiting a portal. He must have sent them off on some mission during the attack. Sal’rasi was amongst them.”

All thought fled from her mind at those words and Maiev just stared, watching as a not a single waver marred Cordana’s sombre expression. “She recognised us for who we were and threw down her glaives. Whatever she did in her time amongst them, some followed her example and threw themselves at our mercy, and some hesitated long enough that those who tried to fight outright were handled with minimal casualties.”

“She is in the Vault?”

“Along with those hunters we did not cut down.”

“And Illidan?”

“His corpse is in the deepest chamber of the Vault, under our most secure locks and defences. No one can reach him unless they have the key.”

Maiev nodded. “Thank you for telling me,” she said evenly. “I need to write a report for the High Priestess, have our more experienced sisters begin scouring the outskirts of Darnassus for more of those traps.”

Cordana slipped her helmet back on and saluted curtly. “As you command, Mistress Shadowsong.”

They parted ways and Maiev returned to her office, settling at her desk as if a weight pressed on her shoulders.

It was a name she hadn’t considered in a long while, having filed it away somewhere deep. It was nothing more than a desperate ploy that ultimately bore a bitter fruit, one she should have known better than to agree to. Sal’rasi was a noble, ardent sister who brought forth the plan. She would pretend to defect to Illidan’s side and join his cause, try to weaken him and his forces from within. But after she convinced Illidan to let her join him, he forced the matter of becoming a demon hunter. If he was to allow a former Watcher into his midst, he would ensure she could never return to her people even if he was ultimately struck down.

Despite her new nature, Sal’rasi managed to feed them vital intel that kept them alive and on the run for a while, but attrition eventually won out.

Maiev cradled her head in her hands and murmured a quiet plea to Elune. She could do with some rest…


	4. Duty Before Pride

A few traps were found and disarmed in the early evening, left in locations the mages had frequented before but cautiously placed out of the way. The culprit seemingly didn’t want to catch a civilian or Sentinel. Perhaps they lured Thera’brin to the first trap and planned to do the same with the others.

Regardless, Naisha made her way to Maiev’s office. Midnight was creeping up on them and Maiev had yet to emerge, she knew full well why. Finally reaching it, she stepped inside and found Maiev asleep at her desk over a pile of papers. Naisha smiled sympathetically and walked over, slipping her helm off and setting it on the desk as quietly as she could. Maiev’s brow was knotted in a deep frown, face half buried in her arm, and Naisha carefully brushed the back of her fingers against Maiev’s temple, pushing a few wandering white locks behind her ear.

Maiev stirred at that, muttering something unintelligible as her eyes slid open. Naisha found herself caught by her wrist before she could blink and smiled as Maiev looked up at her, only taking a brief few moments to wake up properly.

“You’re getting better at that,” Naisha murmured.

Maiev blinked slowly, brushing her thumb against Naisha’s wrist. She let go  after a moment and looked down at the papers on her desk.

“Our sisters have been keeping busy,” she said, clearing her throat when it came out groggy. “What time is it?”

Naisha smiled wryly. “Nearly midnight, how long were you—”

Maiev was up in an instant, hurrying to tame her hair and get her armour on. But Naisha was expecting that response and tidied the reports on Maiev’s desk according to what they were talking about. Each had a small symbol printed in barely discernible ink, the symbols used since their inception during the Long Vigil. The sister who created them, Alliari, always had an eye for such things. She was always thoughtful, methodical, as selfless as any of their sisters…

A flash of rushing saltwater and scaled hide shot through her mind and her hands stilled. Naisha shook her head, rubbing her brow to dismiss the image. She couldn’t let her mind wander, not now, but Naisha could still feel the pressure of Alliari trying to hold on as naga dragged her away.

Maiev’s voice was gentle as she spoke, “Naisha.”

She started, looking up from the papers to see Maiev standing beside her. Most of Maiev’s armour was on except for her helmet and mantle, but that wasn’t important. The knowing look on her face was, and Naisha’s throat tried to close around her words. “I let my mind wander,” she murmured, “just another memory from the tomb.”

Maiev pulled her close in a hug that had her nestling her head under Maiev’s chin. It was a familiar embrace and she gratefully leaned into it, wrapping her arms around Maiev’s waist. She was a sturdy and protective presence, and Naisha could easily centre herself in it. She breathed deep and exhaled slowly, tightening her arms around Maiev in a brief squeeze before she pulled away. “A few traps have been found and disabled, but I doubt we’ve found all of them,” she said, turning to the papers again.

“We didn’t.”

They both looked to the door to see Neva standing there, having entered silently. Maiev narrowed her eyes and spoke firmly, “there is another body?”

Neva nodded shortly. “Jarod found this one. It hangs just outside the temple gardens.”

 

* * *

 

Sentinels and Watchers kept those gathered in check, ushering them away or encouraging them to disperse, but otherwise keeping them from disturbing the scene. Moonlight illuminated the body, hanging from a tree by their wrists. The rope was stained dark purple, along with the front of the highborn’s robe, and a sign hung from their ruined neck;

 

**MAGES BROKE**

**OUR WORLD**

 

Maiev narrowed her eyes and looked at the ground beneath the body, kneeling. There was no blood, nor depressions in the soil, and the grass hadn’t been disturbed. She looked up at the tree and frowned. The victim dangled from a thick, sturdy branch, the rope not tied but purposefully snagged on its own hook.

“Let me help, Maiev,” Jarod said, standing off to the side with crossed arms and an insufferable look shallow apology on his face. He reminded her of a cat trying to slink its way back into the house after it broke something.

Inhaling, Maiev jumped into the air and vanished with a vague, silvery wisp, reappearing on the tree’s junction of branches. There was enough space for three people, certainly one person with a body. Inspecting her immediate surroundings revealed a number of small cuts in the bark and smears of indigo blood leading along the base of the relevant branch.

Carried and dragged here to be put on display, used to send another message. She frowned and blinked back to the ground, peering up at the victim’s throat. By the blood and the look of it from her vantage point, they appeared to have been garrotted rather than simply stabbed.

Jarod frowned at her, exasperation tightening his voice. “You know I can track just as well as you.”

“Nothing in the lake so far,” Lorana said as she approached, the fur of her legs darkened halfway up. The lake was ten feet away, the possibility that something may have been dropped in there was something she wouldn’t ignore, but it was unlikely a former Blade would do anything so amateurish.

“Take the body, before—” Maiev stalled as the back of her neck prickled.

“Out of my way!” Var’dyn shoved an onlooker aside, his frame buzzing with aggressive energy. He looked about ready to attack someone and Maiev almost hoped he’d try so she would have an excuse to never see his face again. She shook the thought from her mind and turned to face him, nodding politely to Archmage Mordent. He was much calmer than his colleague, but looked no less distressed by the scene before him.

Var’dyn fixated on the body with indignant shock. “Ha’srim!” he gasped, making for the body. Maiev immediately stepped into his path and pushed him back when he tried to barrel by her. His slim frame did very little to move her and he stumbled back, glaring up at her. “You! You’re supposed to protect us!” he snarled, jabbing a finger at her breastplate. “Two of our people are dead in as many nights! What are you _doing_?!”

“Var’dyn!” Mordent spoke sharply, grabbing the younger man by his shoulder. Var’dyn shook his hand off and stepped back, scowling deeply.

Sighing, Mordent gave Maiev a tired and frustrated stare. “There cannot be another, Warden,” he said firmly. “I will not have my people wait here to be picked off.”

“She is doing everything she can, Archmage.”

Maiev closed her eyes, jaw clenching at Malfurion’s voice. Mordent turned away from her and Var’dyn huffed, switching his attention as well. “Well clearly it isn’t enough,” he hissed.

Malfurion remained cordial. “Please, let us talk elsewhere and leave Maiev to her work.”

Maiev watched them leave and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She turned back to the body, now resting on the grass and being prepared for transport to the Den by Lorana. Hopefully they would learn more before Malfurion cut them short again.

Finally, those gathered seemed to disperse and Maiev sent her Watchers on their way. Naisha was already scouring the rest of the gardens for anything useful and Neva was sent to inform Tyrande and Malfurion. She should’ve returned with him.

Jarod’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. “Stop ignoring me, Maiev.”

She frowned and faced him, now alone. He stood with his hands on his hips, frowning like a sulking child. She curled her lips in a sneer as she asked, “does it make you feel unwanted, _brother_?”

That seemed to cut him and he crossed his arms again. “What do you want from me? I already explained myself.”

“An explanation is not an apology.”

“I needed my own life, I won’t apologise for that.”

“You _had_ your own life and I chose mine. But I still wanted you to be a part of it.”

“To keep tabs on how your little brother isn’t doing anything important like you?”

“You showed me how little you cared about service and duty, you reached your limit, and I let you be. You saved us when it mattered, that was enough.”

“But you kept going, you didn’t even slow down.”

Maiev tilted her head, genuinely baffled by the turn their conversation was taking. “What?”

Jarod frowned at her. “It’s like it didn’t even effect you,” he said. “You just closed up and moved on.”

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying and it took all her willpower not to punch him the jaw when she did. “Some of us needed to be a fixed point, Jarod,” she said icily. “I was yours for mother, for that entire wretched war. I saw the fears and doubts you dared not show your soldiers and knew I could not let you shoulder mine. So I did not share them.”

Jarod’s brow raised and he let his arms drop. “You should have told me.”

“To what end? We needed you strong and focused, not caught up in distractions.”

“You’re my sister, I’m supposed to help you.”

“A quaint sentiment, Jarod, considering how easily you left me behind.”

He frowned, lips thinning in a frustrated look. “Let me help,” he said, “I _want_ to help.”

Maiev shook her head slowly. He wasn’t going to apologise for it. “I do not need your help any more than I needed to think you were dead. But that is what you let me believe and it is what I accepted. Return to your mate, Jarod. You have no other family in this city.”

Jarod stared at her wide-eyed, as if her words were a genuine shock to him. She wasn’t sure how they could be, after he so callously removed her from his life. He couldn’t possibly expect to just slink back in like he didn’t hurt her.

“Mistress Shadowsong!”

Maiev looked away from Jarod as Ellisare approached them at a run. “Report.”

Ellisare saluted quickly, looking alarmed with a cut lip. “There was a fight outside the temple, tensions over the highborn! We got it under control but a few people were hurt.”

They left Jarod in the gardens and hurried to the temple steps, as Ellisare explained on the way. An argument broke out into a brawl between a dozen people. Ellisare and Neva dove in with several nearby Sentinels to break it up and accosted the instigators, holding them for Maiev when she arrived. It was a pair of relatively young men, a sell sword and a hunter, by the names of Tollen and Aldres.

A few other kaldorei were sitting around, nursing cuts and bruises, shooting glares at each other.

“They’re not welcome here, they’re a danger!” Aldres snarled, sitting moodily on the bottom step. He kept eyeing his bow and dagger, held by one of the sentinels.

“They’re _in_ danger,” Tollen sniped back, arms crossed as he stood across from the hunter. Neva held his shield and sword, giving them both an unimpressed look.

“You’re both fools,” Maiev growled, looking between them. “We are in too delicate a situation for this kind of recklessness.”

Tollen opened his mouth but Maiev pointed her crescent at him. “Do not speak,” she hissed. “Take them to the Den. I will question them there.”

 

* * *

 

Foolish and reckless, but painfully understandable—Maiev had to take a moment and step out into the hall. Aldres tried to continue his rant but Cordana silenced him with a harsh command and walked out as well, stone door sliding into place behind her.

“If I had to guess, I’d say the south eastern commons,” she said, sighing. “The community there has a higher concentration of elders and traditionalists.”

“Those who remember,” Maiev murmured, frowning deeply. She turned to face Cordana and asked, “you remember as well, do you not?”

Cordana tilted her head. “Of course I do,” she said, an edge of frustration entering her voice. “If we could avoid this altogether I would prefer it, they have no place with us, but we are in no position to reject them out of turn. The world is changing, Maiev, and we need to change with it. No matter how much we may resent that fact.”

“I know.”

“I… do not mean to sound dismissive.”

“I did not think you were.”

Cordana nodded politely, sighing. “This case has put me on edge, is all.”

It was wearing on her just as much and Maiev tried to order her thoughts into something more productive. Jarod’s hurt face kept sticking in her mind and she angrily dismissed it each time. There was no point dwelling on it. She’d spent too long grieving over a lie as it was.

Tollen wasn’t much use with information, but Aldres let slip that there were anti-highborn gatherings being whipped up. They had been happening in secret for a while and only now were they beginning to seep into the open, fanning the flames of vengeance and distrust.

Maiev breathed deeply and shook her head. “Hold him here for now, I will send Neva and Ellisare to scout the commons.”

Cordana squared her shoulders. “Shall I continue my watch of the Highborn?”

“Yes, keep our sisters out of sight. If they did not before, they will likely suspect our presence now and begin seeking us out.”

“And you?”

“I must speak with Tyrande and Shandris.”

A knowing tone of exasperation coloured Cordana’s voice. “Good luck,” she said, bowing briefly before she made her way to the Den’s entrance.

Maiev stared at the cell door and frowned to herself. Naisha found a bloody patch in the gardens, on the far side close to the edge of Teldrassil’s great crown. Ha’srim died in a place meant for finding tranquillity and honouring the goddess. Perhaps the killer thought they were doing just that, honouring Elune with the blood of Her children’s enemy.

She tried not to dwell on that and moved quickly to leave.


	5. Before the Storm

Neva and Ellisare came through just before dawn, when most were turning in to sleep. Whispers from the south-eastern commons pointed to a glade not far from the community in question, Maiev knew exactly where it was. She left the young Watchers on patrol duty in the commons just in case they found anything else and left for the glade, Naisha in tow.

Traversing the trees and their abundant shadows, they arrived at the glade undetected, perched amongst the darkened boughs. Their forms were further obscured by the morning fog.

The glade below was cultivated with care, circular and with a few sparse paving stones leading to a central plinth of living wood. It supported a smooth stone basin filled with purified water. A crowd of civilians were gathered in front of it, all eyes on a fiery young woman clearly shaped by those around her.

“We drove them from our lands for a reason. Their reckless indulgence nearly destroyed our world and even then, even after the folly of their power was shown to them they refused to stop its practice! They cannot be trusted!”

Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unfamiliar—Maiev sighed quietly to herself.

“Something like that is hard to forget,” Naisha murmured. “Doubt she was alive for it, but growing up on horror stories would have been enough.”

“We have carried this hatred for a very long time and for good reason, but we must survive.”

“Shame we couldn’t let go at our own pace, Stormrage had to go and speed that up.”

“Arrogance masquerading as wisdom.”

It was a particularly galling moment, to learn that Malfurion had denied and actively argued against a renewal of Nozdormu’s blessing. To have slept the majority of the Long Vigil away and think oneself wise and knowledgeable enough in the real, waking world to make such a decision…

Truly, he and Illidan were blood.

Maiev shook her head free of such thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. She couldn’t let those ideas take root and drive her to vengeful, reckless thoughts. Illidan was dead, his corpse locked away from the world once again. Her duty was to serve and protect her people, and she would do just that.

The young woman below continued to talk about the crimes of the highborn and the danger they posed. She brought up the murders, praising the killer as a true guardian of Elune’s children, but there was no hint of a connection. It didn’t rule out the killer being present, nor the speaker being guilty herself, but why refrain from taking credit while surrounded by supporters? From what Maiev remembered, the Blades were very proud of their cause and actions, believing wholeheartedly that what they did was for the good and safety of the kaldorei. Only their actions frequently put their people at risk of wars and conflicts they didn’t want and now threatened to unravel the summit. Uneasy murmurs and suspicion trickled in from their political guests over the last couple of nights, wondering if they should pull out to protect their people.

Maiev frowned deeply, watching as the speaker called for those gathered to remind their people why the highborn were exiled in the first place and to not stand for such a blatant disregard for their safety. The gathering continued along the same lines until a final quick prayer was said for the fading night and they began to disperse.

Nodding to Naisha, Maiev jumped to another perch and they circled around, fixating on the speaker. She was the last to leave and paused to look for a sound Naisha made deliberately, isolating her from the others. Maiev dropped silently a few steps behind her and when she turned around she nearly jumped into the canopy.

“What the—!” She yelped and fell back, landing on her arse.

Maiev narrowed her eyes. “You must understand how this looks,” she said evenly, “considering the nights we have had.”

The young woman glared up at her, catching on immediately. “Warden Shadowsong,” she sneered. “You should know better than this, how can you protect them?”

“You are endorsing a murderer, a criminal I am duty bound to end. I will only ask once nicely—do you know anything about them?”

“They don’t show their face around here, if that’s what you mean, _Warden._ They know you’ll come sniffing for them like one of those mongrels ‘we’ took in.”

“Have the worgen been lurking?”

“When don’t they? The druids should have taken them to moonglade, wretched things are their fault in the first place! Why do we have to play host to them when the humans hate them as is? I thought this summit was oh so important?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable question from a young or civilian perspective. The Satyr War asked much of them and some stories weren’t so readily passed down, especially if they carried great regret. She knew some of the history behind the so called ‘pack form’ and the druids of the scythe. Neither was particularly proud.

Maiev took a deep breath, sighing quietly as she spoke. “Our people have been beset by conflict after conflict and you clearly know at least some of our history. How have you not learned that each and every time we were threatened by something too great to tackle alone, we overcame it by banding together? Duty and survival do not always entail things you agree with, but at least you can live another night to talk about it after.”

 

* * *

 

 

The girl was angry but not unhelpful. Snarling and spitting aside, she revealed the killer’s reluctance to actively soak in the praise they would get if they frequented such gatherings. They didn’t want to be recognized by anyone. Either they were in a very visible station or it was someone she encountered last time the Blades tried to cause a mess. The only living members left were accounted for, lurking in the deep south of feralas, un’goro and tanaris. More often than not they existed as hermits and rarely interacted with local communities, but they kept their weapons clean.

Their kills tended to be surgical, effective, but never passionate. Their hatred for mages and the arcane was a cold fury honed into a fine edge, used with efficiency to leave nothing to chance. The kills so far were different. Personal, intimate, _angry_ —whoever was doing this knew the Blades methods but didn’t have their precise discipline. They weren’t detached, yet they were cautious enough to shy away from implicating themselves directly. Particularly with people who could out them.

Maiev cursed under her breath as she entered the city temple and spotted Tyrande speaking with Shandris by the moonwell. There were few others in the temple’s ground floor for the moment, just a few sisters out of earshot.

She approached and cleared her throat, interrupting the conversation.  Shandris gave her an irritated look but Tyrande only raised a brow with a touch of apprehension.

“Is there another?” she asked carefully.

“No,” said Maiev, shaking her head. “Not yet, but it has become increasingly clear to me that whoever is behind this is hiding in plain sight.”

“What are you saying, Warden?” Shandris spoke before Tyrande did, a sharp edge entering her voice.

Maiev narrowed her eyes, staring the younger woman down with an iron spine. “I am saying, General, that I believe we may be dealing with someone closer to us than we realise.”

Shandris faced her fully, shoulders squared as she asked bluntly, “who’s crossed your line now?”

Biting down some choice words, Maiev directed her attention at Tyrande instead, acting as if Shandris had simply vanished for the moment. “I do not bring this to you lightly, Tyrande, but you must understand how this looks. We agreed to have the location of our sisters known to you and the Sentinels as a matter of trust. But the killer has been able to evade us, moving around both my patrols and yours. I must take everything into account.”

Tyrande pre-emptively reached out, grabbing Shandris by the shoulder as she opened her mouth, about to snarl at Maiev for daring to suggest any such thing. Shandris looked back at her, baffled and irate, but Tyrande just gave her a silent, disapproving stare.

A few seconds passed and Shandris deflated, sighing as her gaze fell to the floor. “I’ll return to the barracks,” she said evenly, “see if I can turn up anything.” She turned quickly and left, hands clenched at her sides.

Tyrande’s expression softened as she watched Shandris leave. “She means well by me,” she murmured, “I simply hope she can overcome her distrust of you. I _have_ tried to curb it but…”

Maiev smiled sourly. “Children are often protective of their mother.”

Tyrande returned the look and it quickly faded into a serious expression. “It would explain their ease of movement and lack of helpful witnesses,” she said, crossing her arms. “What reason would people have to report someone they believe should be there?”

“Exactly.”

“Maiev.”

“I know, I do not want to think it but believe me, it is there.”

“High Priestess, Warden Shadowsong.”

They both turned to see Archmage Mordent entering the temple, a stern look on his weathered face. “I hope I am not interrupting, but I was hoping to speak with you, High Priestess, about our current situation.”

Tyrande glanced between them and bowed her head courteously. “Of course, Archmage, allow me to—”

“Maiev!”

Cordana rushed into the temple, her tone sending a prickle of fire across the nape of Maiev’s neck. She clenched her teeth and stepped forward. “Where?”

Cordana shook her head slowly. “It isn’t a mage.” A sick coil shot through gut but Maiev didn’t interrupt and Cordana continued with a tightly controlled tone. “It’s Ellisare.”

 

* * *

 

 

Strung up by her feet, Ellisare’s throat was roughly slashed like a slain beast. A note was stuffed into her belt, with angry and erratic handwriting:

 

_The people need protectors_

_Not highborn puppets!_

 

Maiev crushed the note in her hand, a momentary slip of the rage she was barely keeping in check. Naisha and Cordana moved around behind her, directing people away from the area, but otherwise searching it for clues. If they spoke she didn’t hear them, her thoughts sinking into static as she stared at Watcher crest on Ellisare’s breastplate, stained with blood.

Numbly, Maiev cut Ellisare free and carefully lowered her to the ground where Cordana set her down. Maiev blinked from the tree and waved Cordana away to continue her search. She did so without a word, knowing better than to pry right now. They were working.

Ellisare was covered in bruises, her nose clearly broken. She wasn’t taken by surprise so much as overpowered, no meek prey when it came down to survival—she put up a fight. But it clearly wasn’t enough.

Maiev checked her for any other wounds, any other signs pointing towards what happened. The throat seemed to be what did it, there were no tell-tale burns of a trap, and she was left in a corner of the commons few frequented. Fewer still during the day. Her nails darkened at the tips, the slight points they naturally grew into stained purple. Maiev lifted one of her hands and looked closer, turning it over. Blood and skin was gathered under her nails, coating her fingertips.

“You scratched them,” Maiev murmured. She checked the other hand and found the same, frowning deeply.

“Maiev,” Naisha approached from her right and Maiev turned her head, peering up as Naisha held out a Watcher’s mask. She took it and turned it over, noting the initials etched inside. It was Neva’s.

Her mind tried to jump in a dozen directions at once and she cut herself off before it could lock her into a stupor. “Take Cordana,” she said, laying the mask on Ellisare’s stomach. “Someone is walking around with fresh scratches, bad ones. _Find them._ ”

Naisha nodded and hurried off, whistling for her nightsaber.

A highborn puppet, the very concept drove a knife of fire into her belly, stabbing at an ancient hatred for the arcane and its use since their world first rent upon itself. This _murderer_ dared to not only kill a hopeful sister but to take it a step further and slander her in death. Maiev bowed her head, swallowing the fury boiling in her stomach. It was too familiar.

“I am so sorry, Maiev.”

She closed her eyes at Tyrande’s voice, the weight and knowing of her tone doing nothing to alleviate the growing pain in her chest. Tyrande came to understand all too well what her actions wrought, what damage she did not only to the Watchers as a group but as people. They were a sisterhood, a family, women stalwart or directionless, and sometimes disgraced, given purpose and pride again. They grew together, learning, training and living side-by-side for thousands upon thousands of years. Only to have it all come violently crashing down and their names disgraced for having dared stand in Tyrande’s way.

Now this…

Now. _This._

Death was not a new experience for her. Maiev knew very well she would see others die again before her time was done. But not so soon and not like this.

Tyrande pressed a hand to her back and her eyes stung, hairline fractures running through her resolve, but she did not fall apart. Maiev clenched her hands against the ground, silent, rigid, and thankful for her helmet. She would not move or speak for a long moment, but neither would Tyrande.

For once, the High Priestess’s presence was a welcome comfort.


	6. Justice Will Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

Nothing.

Half the night spent scouring the city and they’d turned up nothing. A few people were caught with scratches, but they were harmless and easily explained through hunting or clumsiness. None of them had the background, motivation or means.

Frustration was getting the better of her and Maiev willed some measure of clarity on herself. She would not help Neva by getting angry and careless. Unless, of course, Neva was not the one she had to help. The thought wormed away at the back of her mind, tormenting her with the idea that she’d allowed such a poisonous weed to take root within her ranks.

The doors to her office opened, allowing Cordana and Naisha in.

“Anything?” Maiev continued to pace, looking at neither of them.

“A few scraps,” Cordana started brusquely. “A sighting here and there of someone skulking in the forest after dusk, they seemed to be carrying a stag and moved quickly, probably a hunter.”

“But they weren’t far from where the initial kill took place,” Naisha said, crossing her arms. “I sent a couple of our sisters to investigate the area again.”

Maiev stopped, looking between them. “Nothing else?”

Slipping off her mask, Naisha brushed a hand across her brow as she spoke. “There have been more whispers from the worgen settlement. One of theirs was caught in a trap set deeper in the forest and didn’t survive,” she grimaced slightly at the end, frowning. “They said it happened in a glade between Darnassus and the Oracle Tree. The air smelled wet, with a chemical sharpness.”

There was a river that ran through the area, splitting off into various streams and gathering into ponds. But the sharp smell—the mages weren’t meant to indulge the arcane that far out.

Maiev opened her mouth but paused as a familiar figure stepped into her office. “Tyrande… what has happened?” She walked between Naisha and Cordana, who both turned to face the High Priestess.

“Malfurion is missing,” Tyrande said evenly, though fear strained both her voice and expression. “I can no longer reach out and sense him. He left to speak with the Archmage, but neither of them are at the highborn compound. When I inquired, they told me a Watcher approached the Archmage, telling him Malfurion wanted his aid.”

Like a lance of ice to the gut, Maiev stood rooted and sick with disappointment and rage. Everything in her being wanted to reject Tyrande’s words but…

There were so few like Cordana and Naisha left, and they had been given so little time to truly test this new generation.

Maiev buried her wounded pride. “High Priestess…” she began, but Tyrande lifted her hand. “We have had our differences, but I am choosing to trust that you have nothing to do with this. It _must_ be dealt with before more lives are lost. If you truly embody Her ideals of justice, _end this_ before something even worse happens.”

Maiev quickly bowed her head, shoulders stiff.  “I will find him, Tyrande. Where was the Archmage pointed?”

 

* * *

 

They set out as Tyrande worked to keep the city in order. It couldn’t get out that Malfurion was missing and it wouldn’t be long before the highborn began to suspect something was wrong. They had to work quickly.

Mordent was directed to meet Malfurion at the glade where the highborn were permitted to practice their arts. It was in spitting distance of the first victim’s death and the mages had yet to return to the area since. Whatever this wayward Watcher said to him, it was enough to make him leave the compound.

Naisha’s sabre picked up a bloody scent and they moved deeper into the forest, eastward. They stopped quickly however, when signs of a struggle became readily apparent. Multiple burns in the ground where traps were sprung, more elaborate than before. Maiev knelt and inspected the coils of scorched grass, far more noticeable than the first traps. One couldn’t expect to wrangle a shark with a simple fishing line.

“Maiev.”

She moved at Naisha’s tone, following her to the far end of the glade where the roots of gargantuan trees entwined with protruding rocks. The body of another watcher lay there, on her side and eyes dull. Maiev clenched her jaw and turned the body over, revealing the charred puncture in its upper abdomen. It went straight through and still smouldered with traces of tell-tale purple energy. Maiev wrinkled her nose at the acrid tang to the air and rose, staring ahead.

There was a hollow between the massive roots, coated in moss and shadowed by creeping vines, but blood was smeared across the ground and roots.

Maiev nodded to Naisha, gesturing back to the glade, and began to climb down. The hollow was bigger than it looked from the outside, more like a den dug out by a bear or something similar. With the outside noises becoming muffled, she picked up on shallow breathing in the dark.

Her eyes adjusted immediately and she narrowed them upon seeing the bloody and pallid form of Var’dyn curled in the farthest nook. He was still breathing, if shallowly, and he opened his eyes to see her. Fear dominated his features and he gasped, lifting a bloody hand to cast.

Maiev was faster, grabbing his wrist and twisting hard until Var’dyn yelled.

“What. Happened?” she growled her words, leaning into his space like a nightsabre looming over a fawn.

“Let go!” Var’dyn whined, sweat clinging to his brow. Maiev shoved his wrist against his chest and poised a bladed finger under his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Explain yourself.”

Var’dyn squirmed, glaring at her. “I knew we couldn’t trust you!” he muttered breathlessly.

She growled at him again, pressing harder with her finger. “I am looking for Malfurion and Mordent to save them. You can either tell me what happened or I can leave you here and find them on my own. You should realize how important expedience is right now, _mage_.”

Var’dyn grunted uncomfortably, tilting his head away from her cutting digit. “One of your treacherous ‘Watchers’ brought  us here, I accompanied the Archmage because I don’t trust you or your people and for good reason it turns out!” he snarled. “They attacked us! Caught us like rats and took them away! I just about managed to avoid the centre blast and dragged myself here. I heard someone coming to I cast… they didn’t come back.”

Maiev dropped her hand, scowling. “Did you see what direction Mordent and Malfurion were taken?”

Var’dyn closed his eyes, a deep, tired frown furrowing his brow. “North-east, towards that beastly tree you savages put so much stock in.”

She rose and turned, leaving him be. Emerging from the roots she called out to Cordana and gestured over her shoulder. “Take him back to Darnassus, make sure someone sees to him.”

“Anything else?” Cordana briefly looked at the body, but held her attention on Maiev.

Maiev took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to order herself. “Find us as soon as you are able. We are heading north-east, close to the Oracle tree.”

Cordana saluted quickly and ducked inside to help Var’dyn. Maiev gestured to Naisha and they moved out, traversing Teldrassil’s forest in silence. It wasn’t long before they hit another trail, Naisha’s saber leading them down a narrow, sloping path until they stopped at the threshold of a clearing. It was nestled in the dell, squarely between the Oracle Tree’s glade and the steep hills that bordered much of Darnassus.

The same acrid tang clung to the air in traces.

Maiev gestured silently to circle the clearing and Naisha nodded, slinking off through the underbrush as stealthily as her feline companion. Maiev looked up and jumped, deftly entering the canopy with a blink. Peering from the shadows she could see several figures in the clearing below. Malfurion was hard to miss, held in place by an elaborate, white circle rune on the ground beneath him. It crackled every so often, sending painful jolts through his body whenever he tried to call on the surroundings to help him. Mordent was in a similar state next to him, and if Malfurion was anything to go by they both had burns from the previous traps. But they weren’t dead, yet.

A pair of watchers were talking quietly to each other not far from the captive men and Maiev clenched her hands tight. Her gut was on fire, indignation and fury all but boiling her blood.

A third figure entered the clearing from the far side, also wearing the uniform of a watcher but without their mask. Maiev frowned and jumped to a better vantage point until she could see them clearly. Her stomach dropped.

Blinking from the canopy, Maiev landed in the clearing ten yards from the talking pair, causing them to jump and draw their weapons. Maiev made no move to attack them, staring passed them at the third watcher. Her voice gave away nothing other than a cold, iron-clad fury fit for traitors. “You know better than this.”

“You of all people should know what I do is for our protection,” Neva said, her voice no longer carrying the mild inflections of someone who grew up in Ashenvale, but of someone who grew up in _Suramar._ “We’re no safer with these degenerates in our midst again, they care nothing for the world and the people outside their circles. They’re only here because they don’t want to die, because they _damned_ their own city! And now they come crying for help from the people they nearly wiped out!”

Mordent opened his mouth but the trap shocked him into submission, releasing a strangled yell of pain.

Disgust swept across Neva’s face but she didn’t look at him, keeping her attention solely on Maiev. There were angry scratches on her face, crossing the nose from brow to cheek, barely cleaned up. Maiev swallowed the rising bile in her throat, her voice remaining strong. “That is no excuse,” she growled. “Our people balance on a knife’s edge and your personal desires put them further at risk.”

“How can you say that? Don’t _you_ know better? You saw what _their_ personal desires led us to, how can you believe we’re better off with them?”

“It does not matter what I believe, Neva, only that I serve my people. I have let my wants overrun my sense before and it led to ruin.”

“No, it led to a goal completed. You killed a tyrant, freed a world and avenged the deaths of thousands.”

“At the cost of everyone I held dear.”

Neva smiled at her, lopsided, wistful. “Mother spoke of you often you know, always with respect, admiration, but also with regret.”

Maiev frowned, narrowing her eyes. “Who was your mother?”

The smile slowly faded with a quiet sigh and Neva’s stare hardened. “Fesari Dawnrunner.”

A senior priestess before the Great War and someone Maiev approached during her founding of the Watchers. Fesari was intereste, but declined and told Maiev she had a duty of her own to fulfil. It would be years before Fesari’s meaning became clear, but time and time again they clashed over _mages_ , and every time Fesari asked her; _“what of Suramar?”_

It was at once, both a reminder and an accusation. How dare she protect these mages, these selfish cowards who would rather hide and run and lock themselves away, damning everyone else in the process. People who would pursue dangerous knowledge and power at the cost of those around them, at the cost of anyone not deemed their ‘equal.’ People, who on the cusp of bringing the world to ruin, looked at the slaughter and suffering of their grand empire and did nothing.

The highborn believed themselves to be above everyone. If they showed no concern for the destruction their powers brought, what mercy did they deserve?

All traces of mirth bled from Neva’s face. “Do you know who you protect, Warden?” The words were weighted, lodging something uncomfortable in Maiev’s chest. Part of her agreed, wanted so strongly for none of this to be necessary, but she would not, _could not,_ let herself be compromised again.

Over Neva’s shoulder, Maiev spotted the eyes of Naisha’s nightsaber and carefully shifted her stance. “What of the Archdruid?”

Disdain furrowed Neva’s brow. “He’s the heart of this newfound tolerance, it’s sickening,” she hissed, gesturing in disgust at Malfurion. “What does he know about our people, hm? How could he know anything? He slept almost the entire vigil away and when he wakes, he decides we don’t need our immortality and that we need to _embrace_ these barbaric children who play at powers they don’t understand?” She spat on the ground, growing visibly more agitated. “Mother taught me everything about what happened and I’ve spoken to the people who remember. About how _he_ gave them mercy after they continued their practice. In what way did they deserve anything of the sort? They _broke_ our world and killed millions, and for what? _Power._ It started with him. It should _end_ with him.” Neva drew her crescent, sending Malfurion a scathing look. “I don’t understand how you can defend him or his mate,” she said, looking back at Maiev, “after what they did to you.”

“Do not tread that ground, Neva.”

“Does the memory chafe against your so-called duty?”

“It is irrelevant. This will destabilize an already fragile situation. The unrest could leave us vulnerable and the Horde will exploit that. We _cannot_ allow that.”

Neva sighed, frustration thinning her lips. “They collared you well, didn’t they?”

A barb through the ribs, but Maiev buried it for the moment. It wasn’t important right now. She calmly reached for her crescent, putting the silent watchers on edge. “I could not reach you and for that I am sorry,” she said firmly. “But you will go no further in Her light.”

Naisha and her saber rushed from the trees, lunging at Neva. She barely managed to throw herself out of the way and the traitorous Watchers rushed to engage Naisha and her companion.

Maiev blinked, emerging over Neva and swinging at her neck. She twisted, avoiding the cleave by an inch and sprang to her feet. Quick and skilful, she managed to keep pace with Maiev as they traded blows and prodded for weaknesses. But time and experience showed in every minor cut Maiev inflicted.

Neva’s blade briefly dug at her flank but didn’t pierce. Maiev growled and punched Neva in the mouth, punishing the girl for getting into her space. Neva staggered back, lip split and blood rapidly dripping down her chin. Before Maiev could exploit that however, Neva recovered and surged forward again. “Ellisare looked up to you!” she snarled, stalling Maiev for a second.

The flat of Neva’s crescent slammed into her helmet and Maiev spun, staggering at the blow. Neva pressed her attack, continuing to snarl, “she thought you were a good example of how to _deal_ with our problems!”

Maiev’s vision cleared and she just about deflected the next strike at her head. Neva kicked her in the stomach, pushing her off balance more than winding her. “That witless child actually _believed_ in you!” Neva spat, lunging. She swung for the neck and Maiev intentionally fell back, vanishing in a blink.

Neva spun around, expecting Maiev behind her but finding nothing. Instead, Maiev threw herself in the air and blinked down again. She landed where she stood before and sliced into Neva’s back from shoulder to hip, forcing a scream.

Furiously, Neva turned and battered at Maiev’s defences, but she looked weaker already. “She died believing in a highborn _puppet!_ ” she snarled, slamming her crescent against Maiev’s.

Maiev roared and buried her armoured knee in Neva’s gut, forcing her to bend. Taking Neva to the ground, Maiev got on top of her and punched her, cutting her short as she tried to speak again. Roiling emotions got the better of her and Maiev punched Neva again, and again, and again, until her gauntlets began to drip and Neva fell silent.

_Goddess…_

She stared down at Neva’s bloody face, painfully aware of the quiet around her. Naisha’s battle was done, it was done. It was over so quickly.

She couldn’t breathe.

Maiev wrenched her helmet off and sucked in air, trying to see straight. Her chest felt too tight, like it was about to crush her from the inside out, and she swallowed hard to keep her stomach from rebelling. A horribly familiar nausea clawed at her throat and she shook her  head, rising from Neva’s body.

Mercifully, Naisha took hold of her before the weight of the situation could drag her somewhere unreachable. “She wasn’;t our sister anymore, none of them were. They lost that right the moment they killed one of us.”

Maiev blinked, grasping Naisha’swords and rooting them in her mind. She stared down at Neva and felt the guilt very slowly begin to bleed away. “I know,” she murmured, swallowing hard again. “I know,” she said, louder.

Shaking her head roughly, Maiev turned and grabbed her fallen crescent. She broke the runes keeping Malfurion and Mordent imprisoned and turned her head as Cordana finally arrived with a small squad of their senior most sisters. “Get the Archmage back to the city. We will handle the Archdruid.”

Cordana didn’t question it, knowing Maiev’s tone all too well. She moved quickly to get Mordent up and moving, leaving Maiev and Naisha alone with Malfurion. Having caught his breath, Malfurion began to smile and looked up at her.

“Maiev, thank—”

Maiev silenced him with a single withering look. The Archdruid, on his knees and vulnerable, stared up at her with a momentary spark of fear. He had never looked so small or pathetic before, but in that moment he strongly reminded her of Illidan at his lowest, most self-pitying points during the Long Vigil.

Maiev tightened her grip on her crescent. “Save your thanks, Stormrage,” she growled, looming over him. “The only reason you yet live is because our people need you. _You_ , who would rather show mercy to _demons_ than wipe them out. _You_ , who let a mass murdering freak run free. _You,_ who ignored thousands of innocent deaths because _your_ loved one was safe and alive, so damn the rest. _You,_ who slept the Long Vigil away and thought it your right to decide our fates when you finally returned!” Maiev knew she was beginning to yell, but there was little stopping her now. “ _You,_ who thought it _mercy_ to lock his own brother away in isolation for the rest of eternity, awake and aware! _You_ , who knows _nothing_ of justice or our people, but knows only of the Dream and your mate!”

There were no words, no patronising retort, no dismissive sneer. Malfurion stared up at her as though she had cut him deeply, shock and growing shame forcing him to drop his gaze to the ground. Maiev watched him a few seconds longer, but turned away and picked up her helmet. She was more than ready to be done with this forsaken night…

 

 

* * *

 

The city was in order, the mess cleaned up. After her report to Tyrande, Maiev spent what remained of the night in her office, staring at Neva’s watcher crest. She tossed it on the desk when her hands began to shake.

“They were not our sisters, Maiev.”

Cordana’s voice made her sigh and she turned away from her old armour. Cordana tucked her helmet under her arm, canting her head with a tired, sympathetic look.

“I chose them,” said Maiev, frowning. “I trained them.”

“This was not your fault. If _we_ had more time, we could have trained out any such weakness, but we were not granted that time. Neva was stopped and any who remain to stand with her know they have no allies in us.”

“I… know that, but I will need more than a few hours to accept it.”

Cordana smiled wryly and approached, standing next to her. “I know it’s never that simple. Whatever it is you need, Maiev, I will be here,” she said, laying a hand on Maiev’s shoulder. “We will not fall so long as you are here to guide us and it’s _our_ duty to see _you_ do not fall in return.”

She didn’t doubt a word Cordana spoke and despite the night’s events, their sting dulled at the sincerity.  It had been so long since she knew the support her sisters could provide and it reminded her of better times.  “Thank you, Cordana.”

Cordana nodded, letting her hand drop. “Naisha is soon to return, so I will take my leave. Just… try to be kinder to yourself, Maiev. Few could have weathered what you have and still stepped forward to lead us again. We are you lucky to have you.” She bowed her head briefly and turned on her heel, leaving Maiev alone for all of a few minutes before Naisha walked in.

Maiev turned, but there were no words and none were needed right away. Naisha walked up to her and pulled her into a fierce hug, hands curling into the back of her shirt. Maiev bowed her head, burying it in Naisha’s shoulder and feeling some of the tension in her back bleed away. It was over, it was _over_.

Her eyes stung and Maiev shut them tight, muttering a curse under her breath. Naisha just tightened her arms, tired, angry, grieving—her smaller frame trembled. Maiev swallowed the lump in her throat and slipped a hand through Naisha’s hair, stroking the back of her head.

“Home,” Naisha whispered.

Maiev swallowed again and just nodded. She squeezed Naisha briefly and pulled away, linking hands. Naisha stayed close and they walked from the office, leaving it and the orphaned watcher crest behind.

They could recover, and they would in time, but for now they needed to rest and take in what happened. After that, they could work towards dealing with it and preparing for the future. A familiar process to them now, but that just made it easier to get on with it.


End file.
